


Worn Wool, Coming Unraveled

by Riathel



Series: 200 Word Challenges (Based on Prompts, Kinks, or Whimsy) [9]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: 200 Word Challenge, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Tragedy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Everybody Dies, Hate Sex, Heat Death of the Universe, M/M, Serial AU: s115 Logopolis, Serial: s115 Logopolis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:53:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22782853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riathel/pseuds/Riathel
Summary: It had all failed so simply. The aerial groaned to a halt three degrees before the alignment. They both watched it, unable to breathe, stretching their temporal senses to the very limit to spin the moment like gossamer.“The universeʼs final hope,” muttered the Master, pale, drained in a way that even his final regeneration had not achieved, “thwarted by shoddy engineering.”--The Doctor and the Master fail to save the universe or each other.
Relationships: Fourth Doctor/The Master (Ainley), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who)
Series: 200 Word Challenges (Based on Prompts, Kinks, or Whimsy) [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1609660
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Worn Wool, Coming Unraveled

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this exchange in Logopolis:
> 
> MASTER: What makes you think this programme of the Monitor's is going to work, Doctor?  
> DOCTOR: Oh, I don't know. It's a sort of vague faith in the nature of things, I suppose.  
> MASTER: It's in the very nature of things for entropy to win.  
> DOCTOR: Yes, well, it's the age-old battle, isn't it? Entropy versus structure. Still, while there's life there's six of one and half a dozen of the other.  
> MASTER: Woolly thinking, Doctor.  
> DOCTOR: Yes, but very comforting when worn next to the skin.
> 
> It led me to think: what if Four's cheerful faith in life, and the Master's suspicious faith in the Doctor, had been misplaced?

It had all failed so simply. The aerial groaned to a halt three degrees before the alignment. They both watched it, unable to breathe, stretching their temporal senses to the very limit to spin the moment like gossamer.

“The universeʼs final hope,” muttered the Master, pale, drained in a way that even his final regeneration had not achieved, “thwarted by shoddy engineering.”

The Doctor said nothing. His expression was hollow, eyes darkened. When the Master turned and pressed against him and hissed, “give me this, if nothing else, before it ends, give it freely for _once_ ,” he didnʼt pull away. It was inelegant, the tangle of limbs, their first kiss in centuries. Painfully drawn out. Too fast.

Traken, Karn, Skaro, everything blurred into horrific emptiness. Creation unravelled; so too did his clothing. The scarf survived. Random, woolly degradation.

When Gallifrey vanished, the Master screamed and fucked inside him harder; the Doctor retched, sobbed, and came undone.

Afterwards, he clung to the Master as though giving in could stop their universe ending. He went to press their foreheads together. Hesitated. Didn’t. The Master dragged him, snarling, into another kiss. Another frantic, loveless fuck. 

He never knew which of them died first. 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I did warn everyone last fic that we'd be back on my Blacker than Pitch bullshit sooner or later. I've had some health scares recently, and this was very therapeutic.
> 
> [Follow me at tumblr if you'd like](https://riathel.tumblr.com), or [join the best enemies discord server](https://discordapp.com/invite/v3DzPvn)!


End file.
